


Downfall

by PinkPegasus



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Autobots won, Cheating, Consensual Infidelity, Consent Issues, Decepticons Lost, Dubious Consent, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mechpreg, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Rape/Non-con, Post War, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-21
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-05-02 17:56:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5258177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkPegasus/pseuds/PinkPegasus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over, and the Autobots have won. But, the victory is not kind to many. Soundwave must attempt to survive in a world in which he is seen as a monster while protecting his children and his unborn sparkling from the real monsters that call themselves the victors. Luckily, there are a few kind sparks who are willing to help. Sometimes you must have a downfall so that you might rise up once again stronger and better than what you once were.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Downfall

**Author's Note:**

> There is no rape in this chapter, but there moments in which the hint of past rape or consent issues are presented.

Chapter One

 

The war ended with a single life. It had been Optimus Prime’s sword that cut into the spark of Megatron. Removing a tyrant from his throne of destruction. Destroying an empire of broken revolutions. Killing his only brother. The end came about with spoiled energon staining the hands between brothers who once upon a time loved each other more than they could love themselves. Maybe, that is the fate of siblings such as these two. Their sire once said, “The role of Prime is that for a single mech. And, although, I have two sons, there is not enough room in this world for you two to stand side-by-side.” _There is only room for one._

Still, this is not the story about the war. Nor is this a story about the end. This is a story about the future. Most certainly the future is filled with unknowns, and can be very frightening, as it should be, but there is hope and light in the darkness of uncertainty. There are flashes of opportunities that flicker like twinkling fireflies all around, and, yes, many of these lights will flicker out, but not all. As we find strength in the sunlight, dreams are conjured under the stars.

 

Yet, the story must begin somewhere. So, why not start when the future is at the darkest for a select few mechs that could potentially bring light into the world. And, not only let the light in, but let it shine with the brilliance of hope for a better tomorrow.

 

The acid rain fell in a green haze. The cloth cloaking the mech provided little protection against the storm. Everywhere a drop fell against protoform, it burned, and left behind residual itching and stinging. The mech held an umbrella, designed against the highest of acidity of precipitation, in the air in front him, but not over him. Clustered under the umbrella’s security, six sparklings held each other close for protection as they marched forward beneath their carrier’s watchful optics.

 

Forward they moved down the street as other mechs and femmes spitted static and flicked trash on them. To everyone, this mech and his younglings were a disgrace and a disrespect to all the autobot and neutral lives lost in the war. Instead of life, the mech’s entire family deserved a far more painful and deadly fate than clemency. To these Cybertronians witnessing this parade of a family, it wasn’t fair.

 

The mech and sparklings approached large and overly defensive doors that led into an entirely larger and more fearsome building. A screen at the door revealed a mech’s face and voice demanding name and purpose for the visit. There was not a single expression of disgust, the mech closed the screen and unlocked the doors for the family.

 

Leaving behind the rain, the family found themselves bombarded with scans for weapons and other illegal paraphernalia.

 

“You must leave behind all non-essential materials,” a large mech whose obvious alt-mode was a Cybertronian Plasma Tank. “Yes. That means the cloak and umbrella. Now leave them, or leave.”

 

The ruffle of cloth falling off shoulders, and the collapsing an umbrella that had seen better days over a millennia ago.

 

“I don’t know why you bother to visit, Soundwave,” the mech removed the materials from Soundwave’s outstretched hands. “But, it’s no concern of mine. Move.”

 

Rumble and Frenzy tried to glare at the mech, but their small stature meant little to the tank. Soundwave’s other sparklings kept closer to his legs. After the war, each had gone through the process to be upgraded from cassettes to actual sparkling frames.

 

Ravage had a similar build to Rumble and Frenzy, except for the obvious black coloring and the different helm design that was similar to Jazz’s and Sidewipe’s. Ratbat, Buzzsaw, and Laserbeak were seekerlings, an obvious result of who their sires were.

 

“Wait here,” the mech left without a glance back once they reached the Visiting Area.

 

It was a large room with tables and chairs all spaced out to hint at privacy in an un-private place. The walls were a mixture of steel and glass. Nothing could happen in this room without it being known. It was clean and sterile of any comfort.

 

This building was a home, in some ways, for a certain select Decepticons. Decepticons that didn’t accept the “new” rules. Those who didn’t, or couldn’t, change to fit in a world meant for the ideals of Autobots. It was the place where those few who couldn’t or refused to be “redeemed” or be allotted the opportunity to live out on parole.

 

Soundwave couldn’t blame them. It sometimes felt much nicer to live in here than out there, where there was almost constant pain, hunger, and fear. But, in here, he couldn’t be with his children. They were the most important thing in the world to him, and he’d throw his away his pride and comforts for them.

 

“Soundwave, what a surprise,” the sneer was more prevalent in Starscream’s voice than in his facial expression. “I thought you’ve give up on these…What should I call it? Reunions?” Starscream moved with all the grace of a seeker primed for greatness. “Sit. You know I hate being in your presence.”

 

“Fact: date and time were agreed upon from last… _Reunion_ ,” Soundwave wanted to be angry, but he wanted many things in this life. “Reason: allow you and trinemates time with sparklings.”

 

Soundwave never knew his sire. His sire had sparked Soundwave’s carrier in a night of wild passion that led to his carrier being cast out of the tribes of the Casseti-Carriers of the Deadlands. His sire had made promises of love and of a safe future, but his carrier was left to defend himself in the streets of a “civilized” world.  Many nights, when Soundwave was young and saw sires laughing with their creations, he wondered where his was. He never had the opportunity to be with or know his sire, but he refused to allow his creations to face the world without knowing one half of who they were.

 

“We had an entire war to spend time with them,” Starscream flicked a wrist. “Isn’t that enough?”

 

Starscream was seated across from Soundwave at circular table. Ravage, Rumble and Frenzy sat to Soundwave’s left. Laserbeak, Buzzsaw, and Ratbat sat to his right. Ratbat sat as close as he dared to next to Starscream. Ratbat was Starscream’s only creation, and the little mechling was a constant disappointment to Starscream although Soundwave saw Starscream’s brilliant mind behind Ratbat’s bright optics. Ratbat could grow up to be the mech Starscream could, or should, have been.

 

“Starscream and trine has responsibility to their creations.”

 

“Oh, hush. You say the same thing every time you visit. We don’t want anything to do with them. You were a convenient lay during the war. Always so willing to spread yourself to our whims,” Starscream’s annoyed look took a sharp turn to spiteful joy. “Well, that, and Megatron offered your body to us as entertainment and partial payment for rallying the seekers behind his regiment.”

 

That was a strike below the proverbial belt. Megatron had never ordered him to interface with the trine, but had asked if he’d be willing to entertain the possibility of such actions. Soundwave was no gift, no object for entertainment or payment. He was a mech who had been part of Megatron’s elite soldiers and officers. No mere object would be able to obtain Megatron’s trust like he did. Soundwave bled and made other mech bleed on hundreds of battlefields, no gift, no matter how beautiful the ribbon, could do that for a cause greater than themselves.

 

“Hey, you can’t talk to him like that!” Frenzy’s fists hit the table’s top, leaving behind miniature dents.

 

The guards by the door shuffled, and looked ready to intervene at any moment of trouble.

 

“Frenzy, enough.” Soundwave didn’t want to end this meeting quite yet. No matter how hostile and cruel Starscream was, this meeting was currently about Ratbat being near his sire. He was giving his sparklings a chance unlike the one he himself was given.

 

“But-“

 

“Enough.”

 

Looking back at Starscream, he saw Starscream give a somewhat patronizing and mocking pat to Ratbat’s head. Starscream didn’t once look at Ratbat, but kept his eyes on Soundwave. Ratbat, on the other hand, was just happy to get some rare physical attention from his sire. The sparkling only wanted love, to love and be loved.

 

For the smile on Ratbat’s face, this trip was worth it.

 

“Will Skywarp and Thundercracker be joining us soon?” Soundwave could do without Skywarp, but Thundercracker wasn’t too bad as long as he wasn’t in one of his “moods.” Skywarp was Rumble and Frenzy’s sire, and the mech did the least when it came to being a proper sire. Since Frenzy and Rumble weren’t born with a seeker mold, they were a constant inconvenience and shame to Skywarp. Where Thundercracker had Laserbeak and Buzzsaw, and Starscream had Ratbat, Skywarp was the only trinemate with sparklings without wings. To him, Rumble and Frenzy were nothing but a disgrace. Towards the end of the war, Skywarp had attempted, on more than one occasion, to force himself upon Soundwave in hopes of sparking the Communications Officer with a sparkling more “worthy” of the seeker heritage. With luck and close combat skill, Soundwave had kept Skywarp from achieving his selfish goals. Who knew what would have happened to Rumble and Frenzy if Skywarp had succeeded.

 

“Nah. They had more important things to do,” the sly smile slit across Starscream’s face like a knife to the spark, “maybe they’ll be here next time. Which reminds me, I think time is up.”

 

“We have 18 breems left before the end of your visitation time,” Soundwave knew this was coming. It happened every time, Starscream, or one his trinemates, would show up, be crude or rude to him or the sparklings, before ending time early. It was a game to them. They didn’t care that Soundwave had to struggle for every step here. And, as time progresses, it will get even harder in the coming vorns.

 

“I’m quite aware of the time, Soundwave,” Starscream stood and signal the end of the visit towards the guards. “By the way, how is _it_ doing?”

 

 _It_ was the reference to the sparkling growing inside of Soundwave. Just prior to Megatron’s death, Soundwave became aware of being sparked. Megatron had known he was Heavy, but there was no way to keep Soundwave off the battlefields. Soundwave was essential to the Decepticons battles, and his presence was necessary for communication and tactical purposes.

 

Every day the sparkling grew stronger and bigger. He was a fighter and a survivor. The sparkling would have to be to be born in this new world as the creation of a Decepticon, and for that single sin, the sparkling would face a lifetime of hardships before even entering youngling-hood. Many nights Soundwave felt despair for this spark growing beside his. He felt selfish for wanting this sparkling.

 

“ _He_ is doing well,” in this one subject there was some form of peace between Starscream and Soundwave. They both knew this sparkling would never have it easy. In fact, there was a good chance the Autobots might just decide to remove the sparkling from Soundwave’s arms right after its emergence. What kind of fate would the small spark have then? Maybe the little spark would be better off, but Soundwave couldn’t live knowing one of his creations would be raised without his presence or love. Would the sparkling ever know that he was wanted? That his carrier loved him?

 

“Hmph. Good,” and with that Starscream was gone. Escorted out of the room without ceremony.

 

What now? What could he do? Money was in small supply, and the job Soundwave had was temporary, like all the others. Many companies wouldn’t hire Decepticons, and if they did, the Decepticons were fired because of numerous unfounded complaints by customers, or because the Decepticons complained about assault by other employees or customers. And, with Soundwave being sparked, jobs were even harder to find. Sparked mechs brought too much unwanted attention.

 

Many Cybertronians died in the war, the population of Cybertron was 5% of its original number. Also, majority of the surviving mechs and femmes who bonded during or after the war were now finding their sparks incompatible to even create a flicker of a new spark. Some mechs, like Soundwave, were considered compatible to all, if not most, mechs. This made them highly desirable, and even more likely to face assault and rape. Worse was when these mechs did become sparked by rapists, only for these rapists to demand custody of their creation while also trying to force the hand of the victim into bonding with them. _You can’t take care of this sparkling by yourself. I’ll win custody of the bitlet, and you’ll never be part of his life, unless you make a very smart decision. Bond with me, and I’ll promise to take good care of you and our creation._ It wasn’t right, but the law didn’t say rapists couldn’t have parental rights to their creations.

 

“Come. Time to go home,” Soundwave rose up from his chair with minor difficulties. His creations were quiet, subdued by the interactions of their creators. They scuffled like duckling to stand in his comforting shadow. He sent out warmth and love across his field and bonds towards them.

 

“Can we get energon before going home?” Ratbat’s small, petite voice squeaked out in silent hope, “I’m hungry.”

 

“Of course,” Soundwave wasn’t sure how he’d afford it, but he was certain a deal could be made. It would not be the first time that his creations ate a meal that he bargained for on his knees before a store’s owner and behind a locked door. Soundwave refused to flinch as he felt ghosting hands glide over his protoform and rub over his gestation tank. _It’s worth it. It has to be._

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

Ratchet watched Soundwave’s interaction with Starscream from the command center. Earlier in the day he had received a com for assistance in the Decepticon Rehabilitation and Penitentiary Facility by the medic station there. Apparently there had been a fight between a few of the Decepticons that left behind injuries that required higher medical skill levels and training than that which the medic possessed. Ratchet had told Optimus Prime and the Council that if they were going to build this facility, than he wanted to be part of the medical team. Of course, the final word had been that Ratchet would offer assistance and could be called in, but would hold no permanent staff position within the facility itself.

 

The rounded stomach on Soundwave revealed a lot about his current health. The mech wasn’t doing well, his protoform showed some discoloring from the acid rain storm, but it was discolored in other areas that highlighted an uneven and inadequate diet for a sparked mech. His body was removing protoform to help the growth of the sparkling, which meant a mech with a weak health at emergence with a high chance of mortality for either the sparkling or carrier.

 

Looking over Soundwave’s little brats, he could tell they were doing better than their creator. But, they weren’t doing much better.

 

“Eyeing up Soundwave, sir?” One of the guards in the room smirked at him.

 

“As a medic, it is my job to observe any mech’s health. And, I don’t appreciate what you are insinuating about me and my work ethic,” Ratchet wasn’t in the mood for the guard’s humor. He lost a Decepticon on the surgical table earlier. These mechs might not care about the Decepticon dying, but, for Ratchet, that was a life that Ratchet promised to save, only to fail yet again in the end. He was a medic, a healer, and a protector. Where everyone else saw Decepticons, he saw fellow Cybertronians. Cybertronians who were in a bad shape, and being forced further down by those believed themselves superior as well as the victors. Too many lives had been lost during the war, and still lives were being lost after the war, but now, for nothing.

 

“Sure. Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean anything by it. It’s just that we eye him for the same reason, sir. His health,” there snickers and rude gestures passed around the room. Ratchet ignored them, for now. Later, he made no promise of not returning with his toolkit filled to the brim with wenches to rain terror and dents into their heads.

 

He watched the family leave the room, and walk down a corridor to the exit with the same guard from before. _They’ll be leaving soon, to be lost in the storm of Cybertron._

“Hand me two umbrellas,” Ratchet had seen the rickety thing Soundwave came in with. The thing barely covered the sparklings, and Soundwave had sacrificed his body to keep his creations away from the scorching acid. _The mech must have been in pain for the entirety of the trip here. I hope he took a shuttle for at least most of the way_.

 

“Wha?” The guard next to him gave him an odd look. It was the kind of expression you give someone if you just noticed they sprouted a second head sometime during your interaction with them.

 

“Two umbrellas. Now,” if he didn’t leave now, he’d lose them.

 

In more time than he wanted, but better than he hoped for, Ratchet was out the building holding an umbrella over his head while keeping the other secured in his subspace.

 

 _Where would you go from here? North or West?_ A quick check on his map revealed that the closest shuttle station was North. West was a much longer walk to a shuttle station, and that shuttle backtracked East before heading West again. _North._

Ratchet transformed, and, as the humans say it, floored it.

 

*~*~*~*~*~*

 

There they were. Standing in the rain, reminding Ratchet of the scenes he once witnessed during the war after a wave of devastation. They looked like the mourning, those mechs who filtered into the streets to whisper like broken shadows over the dead. The pain so powerful, that tears and screams were lost into the depth of their despair. In their quietness, the full magnitude of suffering could be felt in every wire thrumming with life and heard with every flicker of a Spark. Ratchet had nightmares about those mechs left living lost among the dead, caught so deep in their mourning that they didn’t even recognize that they were still alive.

 

Soundwave and family were looking into an energon bakery, looking at all the treats and indulgences of a better life. The soft light from within the bakery silhouetting the family against the rain.

 

Approaching with all the refinement of a mecha-bull in a crystal-floral shop, Ratchet marched towards Soundwave. It wasn’t to anyone’s surprise when he came face-to-face to Soundwave, Ratchet’s umbrella covering the both of them with little problem due to their proximity.

 

“When was the last time you had a checkup?” Ratchet didn’t feel like pussy-footing, and was known to being a little too straight forward. There was a reason why Optimus Prime didn’t invite Ratchet to negotiations and congress conferences. When there was a need for a mech to being politically polite and mannerly, Ratchet wasn’t within a depth-charge range towards the top of that list.

 

“Que-query: What?” Soundwave optic band brightened in confusion and shock.

 

“When was the last time you had a checkup? And, I mean, a decent check-up. Not one of those half-credit, fully credited whack-job of a checkup you can get behind a dumpster. When was the last time you saw a proper medic?” Ratchet voice was laced in annoyance, but that wasn’t anything new to most mechs who knew him.

 

“Uncertain,” Soundwave stumbled over the word. He had moved back from Ratchet, only to have the acid rain to fall on protoform unprotected by the holes of his cloak. Quickly finding discomfort in the burns, he moved back under the safety of Ratchet’s umbrella, though still within the discomfort of Ratchet’s proximity. “Query: What concern of this to Ratchet?” Soundwave tried to avoid sounding confrontational, but he was uncertain about Ratchet’s intentions. Ratchet was an Autobot, and was, at one point, an enemy. Though he was a medic, there could still be trouble and unfinished business between them that Ratchet may not have dusted under the rug in the post war world.

 

“Of course you wouldn’t have visited a decent medic,” Ratchet scanned Soundwave from ped to helm, “just look at you. You look horrible.”

 

Soundwave huffed in annoyance, but Ratchet could hear trouble within Soundwave’s filters.

 

“Come on, I’ll take you to my clinic for a thorough medical assessment for both you and your brats,” that hadn’t been part of Ratchet’s plans when he approached Soundwave, but it was now. And, Ratchet wasn’t going to back down either. He would drag each of them to the clinic if he had to, he had the experience with dealing with exasperating, and unwilling, patients from within the Autobots. Soundwave and his brats didn’t even have a chance in the Pit against Ratchet’s will.

 

“Now wait a second,” Rumble groused out in a shout.

 

“Yeah, who do you think you are to tell Soundwave, or any of us, on what to do?” Frenzy was quick to jump in after his brother.

 

“Carrier, tell him that he can’t boss us around,” Buzzsaw grabbed Soundwave’s hand, tugging it closer to his chest.

 

“Hush,” Soundwave admonished, his optics never leaving Ratchet. The medic was one of Prime’s main advisors and highly ranked within the Autobots as their Chief Medic. Refusing Ratchet’s service might be seen as a form of disrespect, or, worse, as a sign of impudence. It wouldn’t take much on Ratchet’s part to argue against Soundwave in a court of “peers.” Not to mention, what if, after the checkup, Ratchet found him incapable of taking care of six growing sparklings? What if they removed from him for their own protection? Another thought struck Soundwave like null-ray to the spark. What if Ratchet wanted to interface with him? Would he have a choice?

 

“I can see that look on your face, Decepticon,” Ratchet was a grouch, but he was far from stupid. Also, he was an overly sentimental old mech that hid it well under an ill-tempered exterior. “You have nothing to worry from me. You all know me. We’ve fought for how long? You know I’m a medic above anything else. I won’t hurt you, Soundwave, or your brats. You’ll all be safe with me. You know this,” Ratchet felt the overwhelming sense of protectiveness run through him as he looked at the pitiful looking family in front of him. He meant of every word he said.

 

Soundwave looked down to his peds before tilting his head towards his creations. There was shame in the contours of Soundwave’s shoulders. Shame in failing to support his meager family. Shame in not being a better carrier. Shame for the lack of energon on the table. Shame for not keeping his promises about the Decepticons winning the war. Shame. Shame. _Shame_.

 

“Carrier,” Ratbat lifted his small arms up to Soundwave.

 

With some difficulty, Soundwave lowered himself into a crouch with his weight supported and balanced on the tip of his peds. His knees slipped apart for further his balance and to allow Ratbat to move in between his legs. Ratbat’s arm wrapped across Soundwave’s chest, his small childish pudgy face rubbing near Soundwave’s collar strut.

 

“Carrier, I’m still hungry,” in those soft words, Soundwave heard his youngest creation’s voice filled with shame. Ratbat felt shame for being hungry while knowing his carrier struggled to feed them all.

 

It was too much for Soundwave. Never wanting to break down before his creations, quiet hiccupping sobs caught stuck in Soundwave’s throat. He wouldn’t scare his creations by crying, but his optics struggled to hide the building tears. Wrapping his arms around Ratbat, Soundwave hugged his youngest. As he did this, he felt other small arms reach up and hug him. They were trying to comfort their carrier, while at the same time trying to find comfort within each other.

 

Releasing one arm, Soundwave grabbed each sparkling, hugging them and kissing them on the top of their helms. Each one feeling the love swell heavy and sweet over the bond.

 

“I know, little one,” Soundwave broke from formal Cybertronian speech to talk to Ratbat. “I know, and I’ll get you energon soon.”

 

“No worries, Soundwave. I have plenty of energon at the clinic,” Ratchet wasn’t sure about the emotion swamping over him at the moment while he watched the scene unfold in front of him. At the look of concern on Soundwave’s face, Ratchet was quick to add, “Free of charge of course. Everything is free of charge, Soundwave. I’m not going to charge you for any medical treatment or energon consumption at my clinic,” Ratchet gave them a crooked smile. “I promise.”

 

Looking at his creations swarming him, then back up at Ratchet, Soundwave slowly stood up to face the medic. The posture in the ex-Decepticon Third in Command was reminiscent of the old Soundwave seen on the battlefield. Ratchet hoped to see the posture more often than the broken one he saw just prior.

 

“Arrangement: Accepted.”

 

“Good,” Ratchet reached out and patted Soundwave comradely on the shoulder, “good. Also, I almost forgot. You’ll need this, I’d imagine,” grabbing the spare umbrella from his subspace, Ratchet handed it over to Soundwave. “I had a spare lying around in subspace. Figure you guys could get more use from it then I could at the moment.”

 

“Gratitude: Given,” the cautious smile on Soundwave’s lips told more about the gravity of the gratefulness than the words themselves.

 

Bending down a little, Soundwave handed the new umbrella to Ravage, who opened it immediately. This specific umbrella had more than enough space for Ravage and his siblings to stand next to each other without overcrowding.

 

“Also, let’s switch,” without further ado, Ratchet took the old umbrella from Soundwave and handed him the nicer one he was holding. The surprise look on Soundwave’s face quickly followed with Soundwave trying to grab the old one back while handing Ratchet’s umbrella back into Ratchet’s hands.

 

“I couldn’t poss-“

 

“I still have my armor, which is more than what you can say, Soundwave,” Ratchet quickly moved out of Soundwave’s reach. “I’ll be fine with this old rickety piece of contraption you could call an umbrella.”

 

“Ratchet: Offers too much,” Soundwave stood under the new umbrella like it was unwanted, but deeply desired sanctuary. Both hands clinging to the handle to point that his knuckle pistons were straining with the force. “Soundwave: Incapable of returning favors.”

 

“By going to the clinic with me, you are doing me a favor,” he stepped forward enough to reach for Soundwave’s elbow to begin guiding the Decepticon to his clinic. “You are giving this old bot company during this Unicron weather,” Ratchet kept his hand at Soundwave’s elbow, cupping the joint, never gripping or holding. He maintained a professional and clinical touch to Soundwave. “Not to mention you are giving me a peace of CPU.”

 

“Once you have us in your clinic, Ratchet, sir,” Ravage’s voice was very mature for such a young bot. Ratchet had no doubt that Ravage took the most after his carrier, and may have had to grow the most being the eldest of the bunch. When Soundwave wasn’t there, it was up to Ravage to protect and lead his siblings. _The young leading the young_. “There probably won’t be much for peace, especially of the mind when it comes to the Twins.”

 

“I doubt they can be much worse than the twins I have dealt with,” Ratchet snickered. “Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are the spawns of Unicron himself. They _can’t_ be worse than those two.”

 

Ravage shook his head with a little sigh in which only a child could give in perseverance for the foolishness of adults.

 

“Come on,” Ratchet began to herd the family down the street. “I don’t have all orbital cycle to stand about. Things to do, patients to see,” Ratchet winked to Ratbat who snickered behind his tiny chubby-sparkling hand. Taking a more serious tone on looking up and down the street, “Anyways, it’ll take close to a groon to get to my clinic on a ground shuttle.”

 

Ratchet’s clinic was close to the center of Iacon. It was decided, without much of Ratchet’s say that the Chief Medic’s office and place of clinical work should be near the homes and offices of the Prime, the council members, and other Autobot officers. His clinic was supposed to be _convenient_ to the aristocrats on the new age of Cybertron.

 

As for Optimus Prime, he refused to see what was happening in the council as well as what the council was doing. The Prime had locked himself away from the world except for special occasions, political summits, and council assemblies. He even rejected the summoning of friends, not even Jazz could force Optimus from his reclusive self-penance. Ratchet couldn’t really blame the mech. Having to be the one to kill your own brother can do some messed up stuff to the CPU.

 

It didn’t take long to get the shuttle station. It was just a matter of time in waiting for the shuttle as well as the ride to the clinic. Luckily, Ratchet was a major disciple in luck in that the clinic was very close to another shuttle station.

 

The shuttle arrived right on schedule. With nothing more than a disgruntled look from the driver to see that the majority of the passengers he was picking up were Decepticons, each member of the group slowly ascended the steps onto the shuttle.

 

“Decepticons to the back,” the driver spat out, and pointed behind him with a jagged thumb before pressing the button on the console to the close the doors.

 

“Where to boss?” The deep, rumbling voice of the shuttle itself came over the speaker. The shuttle sounded like a ray of sunshine compared to his driver.

 

“Center of Iacon. About three clicks south of the Prime’s residence and ten clacks west of the council chambers. Do you know where I’m talking about?” Ratchet ignored the rude driver.

 

“Umm…Sir? Isn’t that where the fancy Elite Autobot Chief Medical Facility is located?” The shuttle shuffled on his wheels which made everyone onboard brace themselves with the various handholds present.

 

“Yeah,” Ratchet crossed his arms over his chest, “what about it?”

 

“Well. It’s just…You see, sir,” the shuttle paused, and nervous static crept into the silence.

 

“Decepticons shouldn’t go anywhere near that location,” the outraged voice of the driver grated on Ratchet’s wires. “You should know that, sir. You know, since you are an Autobot and all,” smiling like an electro-cat that caught and ate the turbo-canary. “You can’t trust their kind. Retched things,” the driver gave a crude Cybertronian gesture of spitting, which look nothing like what the humans did on Earth. “If you ask me, the whole lot of them should have been melted for spare parts.”

 

“Well, nobody asked you,” Ratchet spoke in his quiet, solid timber. For most Autobots and smart bots, that tone of voice would have been a sure sign to run and hide, but this driver wasn’t either of those. “So, do your job, and get me and my entourage to the clinic. Now! Before I decide to reformat you into a tin can that I can kick around for cycles on end!”

 

“He didn’t mean anything, sir,” the shuttle rumbled in fear and in reluctant defense of his coworker.

 

“Doesn’t matter,” Ratchet spat words like acid. “Move, or lose your wheels.”

 

With those final words, Ratchet moved to the back of the shuttle to where the Soundwave and the kids were sitting on the long bench along the shuttle’s rear. There was just enough space for Ratchet to sit next to the dreary window. The kids were talking quietly to each other as Soundwave and Ratchet sat silently on their respective ends of the bench.

 

“Ratchet sir?” A small feminine voice whispered up to him, grabbing his attention from his thoughts on what equipment he would be needing during the unexpected checkup.

 

“Hmm? Yes?” Looking down to who sat directly next to him, he noticed how Laserbeak waved her hands to get Ratchet to lean closer to her.

 

Not wanting to refuse the little femme’s demands, and curious as well as concerned about what she might want to tell him in secret, Ratchet leaned down so that Laserbeak could whisper into his audio receptor.

 

“It’s really crowded, and my wings are bunched up against you and Buzzy. Can…Can I sit on your lap?” Laserbeak’s whispering voice went so low, so quickly that her voice was almost soundless. Ratchet had to replay her words on a higher frequency a few times to hear it clearly.

 

Noticing how Soundwave’s other creations had grown silent and still as their sister whispered to him, Ratchet slowly sat back up with a straight back.

 

“If it’s okay with Soundwave,” Ratchet wasn’t about to grab the kid and place him on his lap without parental consent. Soundwave might be carrying, without armor, under nourished, and placed under a lot of stress by the government and its citizens, but Soundwave was a protective carrier and had once been a fearsome Decepticon warrior. As the humans say, _You don’t mess with the mother gofer_ , or something like that.

 

Soundwave looked at Laserbeak and back to Ratchet before giving a hesitant, but trusting nod. Soundwave knew his creation would be safe with the medic.

 

With a little huff, acting like the effort was worth more than actual act, Ratchet gently reached out and placed his hands under Laserbeaks’ armpits. Lifting her carefully, her little feet kicking in the air like a seeker playing in the wind, he placed her on his knee closest to the window so that she could rest her back against the shuttle’s frame. Laserbeak brought her legs up to rest against Ratchet’s other knee, and crossed her ankles. The way she sat, you’d think she was born royalty. It mostly likely was a seeker quality she gained from her sire, Thundercracker, or one of his trine mates.

 

“Comfy?” Ratchet couldn’t resist commenting.

 

“Yes. Thank you,” Laserbeak twittered her wings in a happy, but lazy manner.

 

Ratchet couldn’t help but smile at the miniature femme’s antics. She would certainly grow up to be a beautiful femme one day. As a rare femme seeker, her beauty would be exotically superior to every Cybertronian in existence. For now, though, she was a cute little thing, and Ratchet felt a sharp pang of melancholy in his spark. He could never have a little femme, or little mech of his own. There would never be a creation he could gush over or spoil. It just wasn’t in the cards for him or his bondmates. Too much damage. Too many differences in spark frequencies. Too much pain.

 

“Are you okay, Mister Ratchet sir?” Laserbeak self-assured expression morphed into uncertain concern. She looked down at her small body thinking that maybe she had poked him or hurt him somehow. Maybe her turbo-heels scratched him? Or had she kicked him by accident?

 

“Yes. Yes, I’m fine. Just overthinking about adult problems,” Ratchet fumbled and forced a smile on his face. By the look on her face, his smile wasn’t fooling her. “Nothing to worry about, dear.”

 

“If you say so, Mister Ratchet sir.”

 

“Call me Ratchet,” Ratchet looked from the femme in his lap to the other children who had spread further out on the bench due to the removal of one sister. “All of you. Just call me Ratchet, okay? None of that fancy, political correct crap.” Ratchet glared at each of them to make sure they understood he was serious. Even Soundwave found himself at the end of that glare when the mech tried to argue against it. Ratchet wasn’t a mech you said no or disagreed with easily. Soundwave huffed and conceded to Ratchet’s demands, for the moment at least.

 

The majority of the ride was filled with quiet benign chatter between them as they transited across Iacon. It wasn’t until close to the end of the trip that trouble rouse its ugly head.

 

“Hey, look, Knucklejoint,” a mech of green and blue coloring waved at his red and purple friend. “We got a big, bad Decepticon on the shuttle with us,” the green mech chuckled in a foreboding way. “Doesn’t he look familiar to you?”

 

The two mechs had gotten on during the last stop, and had been heckling their way to the back as the shuttle continued its progress.

 

“Yeah, buddy,” the mech called Knucklejoint replied. “Isn’t he the same Decepticon from two Orns ago? I seem to remember that one having a big belly also. A prego.”

 

Quickly the dynamic duo of idiocy forced their way to the seats right in front of Soundwave, who had been attempting to ignore them and become invisible.

 

“Oh yeah. He is. How could I forget those pouty lips,” the mech puckered his lips and reached out, grabbing Soundwave’s face. With a thumb pushing on one cheek and the rest of the fingers pushing in the other, the mech forced Soundwave’s lips to be pushed out like an organic fish as well as be dragged closer to the mech’s own face. “Those lips made me quite the happy mech, if I recall correctly,” shaking Soundwave’s head, the mech released and pushed Soundwave back harshly.

 

“I definitely remember that. Well, at least part of it. It’s hard to say since from the angle I had him, I couldn’t really see his face real well,” here both mechs laughed raucously.

 

Soundwave face flushed, his cheeks had a visible charge of electricity blossoming across them. He didn’t dare look at Ratchet. What did the medic think on hearing these mechs? Primus, he was regretting accepting Ratchet’s offer, but they needed the energon and the medical attention. Now, these mechs were talking about how they had coerced and manipulated Soundwave into giving them sexual favors. At the end of their _session_ with Soundwave, the two mechs had tossed some credits onto the ground and told him that he was “totally worth it.” Those few credits had paid for energon and housing for two orbital cycles.

 

“You can’t talk to Soundwave like that,” Rumble jumped up to his peds, his legs braced against the Shuttles turns and rocking. Frenzy was quick to stand up beside his twin, “Yeah! You assholes need to learn some respect!”

 

The two mechs paused in laughter to look at the two little mechs, who barely reached the two mechs’ knee joints, before laughing again and harder this time.

 

“Let me guess,” Knucklejoint hiccupped through his slowly dwindling laughter, “you two will be teaching us some respect if we don’t?”

 

“Damn right, you fragmented coded drone rejects,” Frenzy balled his fists and his stance changed from defensive to offensive. Rumble copied his brother’s pose exactly.

 

 _Not good_ , Ratchet thought as he wrapped an arm around Laserbeak, to keep her more secured and safe next to his torso. Soundwave, on the other hand, attempted to maneuver Ratbat behind him for safety as well as reaching out to prevent the twins from leaping to the attack. Ravage and Buzzsaw stay seated in their respected spots, but giving the stink optic to the two strange adult mechs. If a fight started, those two wouldn’t second guess joining in the fray. And, then there would be four sparklings fighting two grown mecha, mecha whose armor would be dense and had weight and height on their side.

 

“Frenzy. Rumble. Back down,” Ratchet was going to end this fight before it got started. When it came down to it, the scariest mech on the shuttle was Ratchet. Some mecha would even say that Ratchet was the scariest mech across the galaxy. “And, you two,” these two had no idea what kind of pit they were about to face, but they were about to find out if they didn’t listen and obey, “shut up and move to the front. I’m not about to listen to you two imbecils make a fool of yourselves.”

 

That made the two mechs stop laughing. Their snarling engines almost made the windows vibrate in their intensity. Maybe Ratchet could have dealt with the situation better, but Ratchet wouldn’t be Ratchet if he did.

 

“Do we have a problem here, gentlemechs?” The driver stood in the aisle, and he didn’t look happy at all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'll try to update this as often as I can. I'm pretty busy, but I've had this idea in my head for a long while. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it. I might even make the next chapter longer if people really like what I've got going here.
> 
> Also, I hope this chapter makes sense for what I have here.


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